Day One
by CupcakeBean
Summary: "It's Day One and she's up to her elbows in dirt and death." A post-finale fic. Spoilers for "Beginning in the End".


**Disclaimer**: As always, this story was written for entertainment purposes only and no copyright infringement was intended.

**Spoilers**: "The Beginning in the End"

**A/N**: Thanks Alanna1231 for cleaning this baby up!

...

**Day One**

It's Day One and she's up to her elbows in dirt and death. She's sweating and squinting, categorizing findings and cataloging records. She realizes just how much she's missed this. Missed _herself_, the way she used to be. Before.

Before him.

Before she knew about people and murders and feelings and families. Before she knew about love.

She finds the work enjoyable, satisfying even. Her team—this one, not her _real_ team—are some of the most gifted and promising scientists she's ever worked with. Their findings are exciting, life changing, history making. But all she can think about is how much she wants to share this with him.

It's ridiculous, really, because he would have no idea what she's talking about, why she's so excited. But he would listen. Booth always listens. And what's more, he _cares_. Booth is happy when she's happy.

As busy as she keeps herself she can't help picturing him here with her, by her side. If Booth were there, in Indonesia, he'd be bored to tears. He'd try to pull her away from her work, distract her, beg her to play with him. And she would inevitably give in. She always gives in to him.

And that was why she left. It's not Booth's fault, far from it. It's hers. She's lost her objectivity, her rationality, her focus. She's gotten lost in a cloud of emotions and feelings and _heart_. And the very idea that she might be holding him back… It's unbearable. He needs to move on; he'd said so himself.

It's only at the end of the day that she feels it. It's like losing a limb. Sometimes your body doesn't realize you've lost something until your brain catches up. The sudden shock of _knowing_ that something is missing has her scrambling for the nearest foliage. By the time she's emptied the contents of her stomach on the jungle floor, she feels the crushing weight of the decision she's made.

It's Day One and she's already thinking about reflecting pools and coffee carts, warm brown eyes and affectionate smiles. She's thinking about desperate embraces and frenzied kisses.

She's thinking about 30, 40, 50 years. Forever.

…

It's Day One and he's up to his ass in order and authority. He's sweating and swearing, barking out orders and breaking down defenses. He realizes just how much he hates this. Hates _himself_, the way he used to be. Before.

Before her.

Before he knew about science and logic and truth and honesty. Before he knew about love.

He finds the work rewarding, honorable even. His team—this one, not his _real_ team—are some of the hardest working and most promising recruits he's ever lead. Under his command, they will blossom into a tight, efficient, well-organized unit. But all he can think about is how much he wants to share this with her.

It's ridiculous, really, because she can never truly understand why he wanted to keep his past in the past, why it haunts him. But she would listen. Bones always listens. And what's more, she _cares_. Bones hurts when he hurts. And that somehow makes everything okay.

As busy as he is, he can't help picturing her with him, by his side. Not here though. He would _never_ want Bones in this hell. If they were back in D.C., she'd be prattling on about some old bones in Indonesia, boring him to tears. He'd tease her, play with her, pull her out of her brain if only for a little while. She would roll her eyes. And smile. She always smiles at him.

And that was why he left. It's not Bones' fault, far from it. It's his. He let himself fall in love with her, knowing she might not feel the same. He's gotten lost in a fog of desire and adoration and _longing_. And the very idea that he might be holding her back… It's unthinkable. He needs to move on; he knows this.

He feels it the instant his feet touch the ground in Afghanistan. He always feels it when they are apart, but this is much, _much_ stronger. It's like someone has torn away a piece of himself. It's going to take his brain a long time to convince his heart that he's doing the right thing. As he tosses and turns in bed that night, the weight of his decision threatens to crush him.

It's Day One and he's already thinking about reflecting pools and coffee carts, pouty lips and Squinty talk. He's thinking about soft caresses and physics lessons.

He's thinking about 30, 40, 50 years. Forever.


End file.
